


the bridge

by aparticularbandit



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Like, if those are gonna bother you, maybe don't do the reading, so like, suicidal ideation tw, suicide TW, we're dealing with the bridge here and that scene in s4 where luisa was going to jump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aparticularbandit/pseuds/aparticularbandit
Summary: luisa's thoughts regarding her mother's bridge, particularly during chapter seventy-seven





	1. Chapter 1

you haven’t been to the bridge in years  
  
in point of fact, you _avoided_ it the same way you avoided _all_ bridges for months after  
  
there was a rope bridge on your playground at school  
     with long thick wooden planks on either side for stability  
other kids would jump on the planks a few feet off the ground and  
     test their balance against the dizzying height  
you would play with other kids  
     you _think_ you would play with other kids  
under the watchful eyes of older kids  
     the ones with responsibility to protect and stop fights  
          (a power that sometimes went to their heads)  
then sometimes someone would yell and point at someone  
     on the large wooden planks on either side of the bridge  
someone, some child, some other kid, would be standing _there_ ,  
     facing down, chest heaving with heavy breath  
          maybe their fear coursed through them;  
               maybe that’s what made them freeze  
          maybe their desire for attention did the same, and  
               the pause was just to make sure other people were watching  
then, they would jump  
     or fall  
          _either way they would drop_  
you couldn’t stop the scream that such an action would pull from your lips  
you couldn’t stop screaming at them  
you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing through the gathered crowd and making sure  
     _they never wanted you to make sure_  
  
eventually, they stopped letting you outside at recess  
you would sit in the classroom and look outside through the paned window  
     coloring pencils and broken crayons held tight in your grubby little hands  
sometimes carla would join you with a thick book  
     dr. seuss and daisy-head maisy and _you’ll never know where you’ll go_  
but it wasn’t the same as being outside with the gravel sticking to the soles of your brand new shoes  
     they were bright white until a kid jumped and then they were splattered with red  
     no  
     _no red_  
     that’s just your imagination  
you’re certain if you jump, they’ll hear the water bubbling in your lungs  
  
it’s been years – decades – and you’ve gotten over your foolish fear of bridges  
     children jumping overboard  
     long black car driving across one that’s too long  
     your eyes drawn to the waves on either side  
          sometimes you think you see your mother’s body  
               in television shows, law enforcement crud, you learn that a body that is left in the water too long absorbs the water  
               it inflates like the floaties you used to wear on your arms when you were young  
                    only without the bright pink and blue patterned flowers and  
                    instead with the sagging of flesh like the wrinkles of an elephant that hasn’t grown yet  
               you stopped watching those shows  
               you understand why the casket was closed  
                    you had a hard enough time with the play bridge at school  
                    how would you have fared with those _images_ glaring at you from behind your eyelids?  
  
but you still avoid _that bridge_  
     it’s easy enough  
     there are a lot of _out of the way_ routes to get to your destination without going _there  
_     it takes _longer_ , sure, but it keeps you from having to confront… _that_  
you don’t want to think of what _could_ happen if you went back  
     _nothing_ , probably  
     _something_ , maybe  
          carla, telling you to jump over the edge  
          carla _at all_  
               her red hair, curly, billowing in the open breeze  
               blue eyes full of clouds, the same color as the waves beneath her  
               an offering of her small smile as she falls – _plop!_ – like a stone  
                    the waves swallow her the same way they swallowed your mother  
                    but this time there’s no body to be found  
          _your mother_  
               sometimes you think you might see her ghost  
                    black hair long, straight, tangled at the edges like yours tends to do  
                    fingers tight on the edge of the bridge, knuckles white from their grip  
                    barefoot  
                         maybe she didn’t jump  
                         maybe she took off her shoes to have better grip  
                         maybe she just                    _s l I p p e d_  
                    her eyes hollow  
                    her skin flaking off  
                    she turns to you, beckons, one finger crooked, to join her  
               sometimes you think you’ll be able to talk her out of it  
                    maybe, if you had been older, you could have  
                    maybe, if you’d loved her more, you could have  
                    maybe, if _she’d_ loved _you_ more, you could have  
                         you know this is a lie  
                         depression is a mental illness  
                         love has nothing to do with it  
                              the thought infiltrates your mind anyway  
so you haven’t been back  
  
until now  
  
you think you understand her now


	2. Chapter 2

death feels like a certainty  
     it’s the _better_ option  
     you _know_ it is  
          you’ve run it through your head about as often as  
          you’ve run your hands over the  
               cold cement block of the bridge  
  
the chill surprises you  
the heat of the miami sun should have heated the cement to skin burning levels  
the bridge should still feel a little like hell  
     it doesn’t  
  
the bridge feels more _real_ than she remembers  
     its concrete is pocked  
     your heels drag through the dirt, the dust, the grime  
          they click clack on tile  
          they clunk on wood  
          they stifle here with their silence  
               different than the lack of sound, the muffling of carpet  
               here you feel there _should_ be _something_  
                    you should feel it in your heels  
                    even if you cannot hear it for the highways that left you far behind  
                         no one comes out here unless they need to  
                         it is the quickest way to _some_ parts of the city  
                         but no one goes to them after dark  
                         not unless they’re asking for trouble  
                              _are you asking for trouble?  
_                             _no, you’re trying to end it_  
     you want this to be an illusion, another hallucination  
          you both _want_ to be here  
                  and want _not_ to be here  
     your fingers are as tight as you imagine your mother’s were  
          knuckles almost an ice white, if you would look at them  
but your eyes are on the waves  
     they aren’t as tumultuous as they were when your mother jumped  
     they aren’t as tumultuous as they were when your father stood to the side and  
          _watched her_  
               instead of grabbing her arms and  
               holding her to himself and  
               refusing to let her do _anything_ and  
               **bringing her back safe**  
     they aren’t as tumultuous as they were when you imagined--  
  
_they aren’t as tumultuous as your heart  
_     _beating rapidly inside your chest whenever your stepmother leaves you breathless  
_          she does this on purpose  
          you know that she does  
          her teeth grit and her jaw tightens whenever you speak of allison  
               she is as jealous as you are  
               neither of you can do anything about it  
               before you married allison you could feign friendship  
               now seeing each other there is nothing but salt  
                    _~~are you drinking?~~_  
                    _~~why does it matter?~~_  
_  
they aren’t as tumultuous as your understanding  
     that your mother had a family to leave behind who longed for her to stay, to stay, **to stay**  
_          sometimes you are unsure of your father  
          he mourned in private, as much as you did  
               more maybe  
          but he recovered so quickly and remarried  
               _within months!_  
          and he watched her die  
                  he watched her die  
                  he watched her die  
          _~~who is watching you die?~~_  
          _~~is anyone watching you die?~~  
  
they aren’t as tumultuous as your thoughts were  
     before you decided that this was the right path, that if you died your family would understand_  
          your father would mourn  you the same way he had your mother  
          your brother already wants nothing to do with you  
               this would make that much easier  
          your wife is already gone with the woman you found her with  
               if she really loved you, the divorce would not have been as simple  
               it was a joke, wasn’t it?  
               it was _all_ a joke  
          your stepmother--  
               _~~would she even feel anything?~~_  
               __~~do you want that?~~ ~~~~  
  
you don’t  
you’re certain  
as certain as your hand on the cold concrete  
     which would shake if you didn’t grip it so tight


	3. Chapter 3

sitting on the edge of the bridge  
looking over into the flickering waves  
feels a bit like drinking  
  
or  
  
_not_ drinking  
  
four days after rehab you  
found yourself back in a bar  
  
you weren’t drinking  
  
     _but_  
  
you liked being in a bar  
you liked having a drink  
     _water_  
     you knew better than to go for anything harder  
you liked looking at the alcohol and  
     thinking yourself good for  
     _not_ drinking when you _could_ be drinking  
  
you were **proud** of yourself  
  
it was _idiotic_ because  
     if you had slipped?  
     if you had stumbled?  
     if you had fallen?  
it was right there within your grasp  
  
some people would call that  
     _tempting fate_  
  
but that’s all you’ve ever known  
     tempting fate  
  
sitting on the edge of the bridge  
it feels a little like that  
  
this isn’t the _first_ time you’ve done this  
     well  
     it’s the first time you’ve done it _here_  
          because you’re a little more certain of what you’re doing  
          because you’ve already made up your mind  
          because you think  
               if you’re going to do this at all  
               _it’s better to do it right_  
                    all the parallels and everything  
                    it’d make a nice story  
                    if your life even _was_ a story  
                         if you had a choice you would want it to be a love story  
                         if you had a choice you wouldn’t have this tragedy  
                    you don’t get a choice  
                    who does?  
  
you’ve sat on other bridges before  
     not just this one  
you’ve looked over the edge and considered  
     some of them were like this one  
          over waves and waves and  
          they say the fall will kill you but  
          you think that the drowning will do that more  
     some of them were over train tracks  
          but those would take too long  
          by the time a train arrived you might  
          have talked yourself out of it  
          and you didn’t really want to be splattered  
     some of them were between buildings  
          you’d stood way up high and  
          looked down thirty floors or more  
          they say it feels like flying  
          until you hit the ground  
          and _sometimes people survived the fall_  
     if you jumped you wanted to make sure  
     you didn’t want to leave a body  
     you didn’t want to be found  
          your family would just think you’d  
          disappeared somewhere  
          no one would really _miss_ you  
     you don’t want to be missed  
  
you’re flirting with jumping the same way you  
flirt with drinking  
     a glass in one hand  
     no ice  
     the bottle sitting _right there_  
and when you’re weakest?  
     you take the bottle  
     and chug  
  
you haven’t done that with the bridge yet  
with _any_ bridge yet  
  
drinking’s a much slower form of suicide  
     effective, eventually  
     maybe  
     it helped them stop caring  
          so this would hurt less


	4. Chapter 4

you take your shoes off  
     you’re careful  
     you don’t know why you’re careful  
you place them on the concrete railing  
you place your phone next to them  
  
no one is watching you  
  
maybe soon someone will come by and think  
     _hey! new shoes!_  
or  
     _hey! new phone!_  
and your death will have meant something  
     something good  
     to _someone_  
  
they **are** cute shoes  
  
you regret not wearing them more often  
you regret not having an occasion to wear them more often  
you regret not realizing _you didn’t need an occasion_  
  
they were maybe a waste of money  
for the amount of times you’ve worn them  
but they’re here with you now  
maybe the last shoes you’ll ever wear!  
so you suppose that makes them worth the money  
  
you pat the shoes like they are an old friend  
even though you only bought them like a month ago and  
you carefully step over the railing  
  
well  
  
it’s more like you climb on top of the railing and  
sit and look at the waves and contemplate and  
slowly work yourself up to standing on the other side  
  
you balance really well for trying to convince yourself to jump  
you’d already decided to jump  
what are you waiting for?  
  
it’s like standing at the top of a diving board  
everyone standing in line behind you  
watching and  
waiting and  
cheering you on  
  
only  
  
no one would _really_ be cheering you on  
  
you don’t tell anyone about the bridge moments  
if you survive this one you won’t mention _it_ either  
they feel like private moments between you and  
someone  
you don’t know who  
  
no  
  
wait  
  
you  
  
you told her  
  
you told _her_  
  
on the fourth of july  
  
after you’d gotten out of the pool  
     _and oh you loved that pool  
_     _just like you hated this bridge  
_     _you loved that pool_  
     _and you hated it_  
     the pool is a bit complicated if you are  
     completely honest with yourself  
  
you try not to be honest with yourself  
you try not to be _harsh_ with yourself  
you tend to be harsh when you’re honest  
     but only with yourself  
  
somewhere between the pool and the hotel room  
you’d mentioned it in passing  
  
_i’ve been thinking about jumping off a bridge  
i think you just saved my life_  
  
hah!  
funny!  
good joke, luisa!  
  
she didn’t save your life  
**she ruined it**  
  
no  
  
no  
  
she didn’t ruin your life  
  
_you_ ruined your life  
  
by falling in love with  
the woman who loved your father  
  
but was that really your fault?  
she was dating him  
she shouldn’t have been there  
  
you were dating allison  
you shouldn’t have been there  
  
you don’t want to think about allison  
  
actually yes  
  
yes you do  
  
if you think about allison you might actually jump  
if you hurt yourself enough you’ll stop hurting  
  
you keep checking your phone  
  
it’s a habit  
  
you don’t know why you’re doing it  
  
you don’t know why you’re doing this sober  
  
_yes you do  
_  
you want the decision to be your own  
not influenced by drinking or the buzz  
you know that if you drink you’ll feel better  
you’ll _think_ you’ll feel better  
you won’t actually feel better  
but you can pretend  
enough to not be here  
  
so  
  
you’re here  
  
and  
  
you’re sober  
  
and  
  
you’re working yourself up  
  
to jump  
  
and  
  
your phone rings


	5. Chapter 5

you don’t want to answer your phone  
     _you want to answer your phone_  
  
you don’t want to answer your phone  
     _you want to answer your phone_  
  
you **don’t** want to **answer** your **phone**  
     _you **want** to answer your phone_  
  
the want beats in your chest like a second heart  
     the want was so strong in you after you caught allison  
          _you know better than to believe that was the first time_  
           _you had your stepmother_  
               although admittedly neither of you were much for planning  
                    how many times had you almost gotten caught?  
                          _none none none_  
                    how many times had you slept in your father’s bed?  
                          _none none none_  
                    how many times had you--  
          _allison and someone else in your bed_  
          _allison and making sure you were gone_  
          _allison and the phone call you answered and_  
               she didn’t mean it  
               it was an accident  
               please forgive her  
                    _it was a stupid wedding in vegas_  
                    _she’d been drunk_  
                    _you’d been drunk_  
                          _you weren’t supposed to be drinking but_  
                          _your brother had lived!_  
                              which was **good**  
                              you were _glad_ your brother lived  
                              if he’d died you still would have been drinking  
                         _your father had left_  
                         _your stepmother had left with him_  
                         _you were confronted with being in love with_  
                         _your stepmother_  
                    _so you’d been drinking_  
                    _you think it was your idea_  
                         _honestly it’s weird you hadn’t_  
                         _gotten drunk married in vegas before_  
                    _when you woke up the next morning with_  
                    _the rings bright silver on your fingers_  
                    _she decided to stay_  
                         _it was the first time someone decided to stay_  
                         _with you_  
                              except for carla but  
                              carla wasn’t exactly _real_  
  
you don’t want to answer the phone  
  
you answered the phone for allison  
     for your _ex-wife_  
     but _not_ the ex- _love of your life_  
          ~~could she even be called that?~~  
and a random innocent person got pregnant  
instead of your husband’s wife  
     who he’d been trying to divorce so  
     maybe that part wasn’t so bad  
          look  
          you’re trying to find _something_ good  
          something to cling to  
          but there’s not really that much  
               not anymore  
               if there ever was anything at all  
                     _there must have been something_  
                    _there **must** have been_  
                    _how else did you survive so long?_  
                         not a particularly _great_ way of surviving  
                         drinking and  
                         sleeping with your father’s wife and  
                         ruining _other_ people’s lives and  
                         maybe that was just all catching up to you  
                         maybe you should have done this before now  
  
you _did_ ask  
this isn’t _entirely_ your fault  
you **did** ask!  
_she said yes!_  
you’re _sure_ of it!  
you _heard_ her!  
_you made sure!_  
  
it’s still your fault  
you were the doctor  
she didn’t ask for this  
  
_she’s keeping the baby your stepmother didn’t keep_  
  
your phone rings and  
you don’t close your eyes and  
you try not to answer it but  
you do anyway


	6. Chapter 6

there _is_ something comforting about hearing her voice  
  
you wish you could lie and say that there wasn’t  
but it’s nice  
     you know?  
to have someone call  
  
it strikes you that your stepmother’s voice  
may be the last thing you hear and  
you think this is particularly apt  
  
you think of everyone you’ve known  
hers is the voice you would like to hear last  
     right before you die  
     you wouldn’t have anyone else  
  
you think  
     when you met and  
     after _the pool_ and  
     you thought you’d never see each other again  
     you’d hoped you would  
          ( _hah!_ )  
     you’d  
     you’d _dreamed_ of a _future_  
          never mind that you had a girlfriend  
          _never mind that she had your father_  
     you’d dreamed of marriage and  
     you’d dreamed of kids and  
     you’d dreamed of dying hearing her voice  
  
     okay  
     well  
     mostly you’d dreamed of a lot more mind-numbingly great sex  
     if we’re  
     really honest here  
          and _maybe_ you _should_ be honest  
          with the whole _about to jump to your death_ bit  
          seems like a good time to be honest  
  
you like hearing her voice  
you’d liked hearing it before _the pool_  
you think there’s something…sweet about it  
     but not the _good_ kind of sweet  
     the cloying kind  
          like strawberries that  
          have sat in the sun a little too long  
          they aren’t _bad_  
               _not yet_  
          but they’re almost too ripe  
          just a little bit sour to the taste  
          you _wince_ as you bite into them  
               you didn’t wince when you bit into _her_ but  
  
                no  
               wait  
               if you’re about to die  
               it’s okay to relive your fondest moments  
               even if it’s just mind-numbingly great sex  
  
               uh  
  
               _especially_ if it’s mind-numbingly great sex  
  
the problem  
with holding your phone in one hand  
when your hands are what’s holding onto the railing  
that keeps you from slipping off the bridge  
is that  
you have a little less stable balance  
which admittedly  
is _nice_  
when you’re planning to jump  
but you actually want to make the decision if  
     _if you go_  
you don’t want to slip  
     to stumble  
     to fall  
you want to _jump_  
     a leap of faith  
     a leap of **despair**  
          into your waiting mother’s arms  
          she misses you  
          _someone misses you_  
          _someone loved you once_  
               you think  
               she would have understood  
               you understand her now  
                    what would she say?  
                    would she tell you to jump?  
                    would she be watching you die?  
                    would she _see_ you?  
  
you slip  
your hand holds tight to the railing  
  
your mother loved you  
     once  
your stepmother loves you  
     now  
  
you want to jump  
     _you don’t want to jump_  
  
you want to jump  
     _you don’t want to jump_  
  
you **want** to **jump**  
     _you **don’t** want to jump_  
  
her voice  
her reassurance  
her _lies_  
     because a part of you doesn’t believe her  
     because a part of you still thinks jumping would be better  
     because a part of you knows that her love means nothing  
          she will still choose your father  
          she will still choose _not you_  
          _she will still choose--_  
  
               _how do_ you _know what she_ will _choose?_  
  
               you came to the bridge to jump  
               you haven’t yet  
               you stand on the edge staring into the abyss and  
               you defy it  
  
well  
  
you don’t defy it alone  
  
she’s watching you die  
  
_she’s watching you die_  
  
**she’s watching you die**  
  
and she held out a hand for you to take it  
  
one hand is not enough  
not to bring back someone  
who has already jumped  
     already stumbled  
     already fallen  
you need both hands  
     they weigh too much  
     you know this  
     you’re a medical doctor  
     you _were_ a medical doctor  
          you were so proud  
  
          no  
  
          your _father_ was so proud  
               were you?  
               would your mother have been?  
               would _he_ have been  
               if you had chosen something else?  
  
it’s a  
_good_ thing  
you haven’t jumped yet  
  
your stepmother does not have both hands free  
she would not be able to save you herself  
  
the phone call ends and  
you don’t slip  
you don’t stumble  
you don’t _fall_  
as you move back over the railing  
  
you knock your shoes off by accident  
just  
kick them  
     _oops_  
  
you watch them fall with a plop into the water below  
an offering  
you paid too much for them anyway  
and yet  
they _were_ nice shoes  
you should buy more of them  
  
do they even still sell them?  
  
here, mom  
have a new pair of shoes  
  
they’ll look good on you.

**Author's Note:**

> if i deal with this poorly, let me know, kindly. i had this image in my head and...needed to get it out.


End file.
